


practically in love

by thir13enth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Thanksgiving Dinner, also there's a weird tension between Lotor and Shiro that I couldn't resist plugging in, mlm Shiro, wlw Allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21607504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: Seeking someone to pose in a relationship for 6-8 hours on Thanksgiving night. Only requirements: sustain good appetite enough to finish two plates of dinner prepared by opposing in-laws, maintain cheery attitude through awkward conversations sometimes salted with politics and sports teams, and astutely corroborate whatever untrue stories I might improvise on spot about our supposed two-and-a-half year relationship. Food and bed provided.— shallura, fake relationship au
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	practically in love

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for three Thanksgivings ago so... well you can tell how long overdue I am for posting this. I thought I might as well put good effort into making it happen for this Thanksgiving. Obviously if you haven't guessed by the length of this piece, this took much much longer than I expected.
> 
> Thank you for letting me get this out of my system. There's probably about a few more shalluras that I need to get out before it's too late. Wish me luck.

The next time Allura receives a notification on her phone, she finally decides to roll over, reaching under her back to silence the damn thing so she could be left alone to sleep. But seeing the message on the screen makes her take a second look.

_Hey! I’m Shiro. I’m responding to your ad on LionsList. This is my cell so feel free to text or call me._

“What?” she sleepily murmurs, voice croaking from disuse. She clears her throat, getting up in a daze and looking down at herself. She’s wearing work clothes — a plain white blouse, buttoned down, and black slacks, unzipped. She’s on the sofa and has a massive headache, which can only mean one thing —

Putting her phone down on her stomach, she reaches her left hand down to the floor next to her and her fingers knock over a few glass somethings that clink against each other and roll over, spiraling down her bare wood floor to hit the TV stand across the room.

Yep. She fell asleep drunk, she affirms to herself, reading the brewery label of the bottle. She yawns emphatically as she leans forward, peering over the edge of the couch to count the bottles.

One, two, three... and four over by the television, she counts as her gaze moves back upward to the wall clock. This counts as a binge, she reprimands herself. She looks back at the clock, and it takes her a long stare to figure out the time, 10:30 AM, and ask herself why she was even awake in the first place.

She looks back down at her lap, catching a glance of her phone.

Right. She woke up to some notification. She picks her phone up from her lap, clicking it back on to re-read the message.

Ad on LionsList? What even...

_What ad?_ She texts back immediately, her eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar cell number as she tries to remember — really anything — that happened last night.

Before she reaches any conclusions, her eyes suddenly shoot toward another unread text that she missed from late last night.

_Are you drunk?_ From Nyma.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, unlocking her phone to get to her messages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Her breath stops as she reads the text she sent just before that:

_Hey, remember how your sister was convinced we were going to get married?_

She groans audibly, curling herself into a ball in fetal position. From now on, she _had_ to lock her phone away on her first drink. She should have known better than to give her drunk self the avenue to text her ex.

Moreover, she probably had to just delete Nyma’s number all together.

But Allura wrinkles her nose at the premise. It’s fine, she convinces herself. They were on talking terms and had already been on the road to re-visiting the possibility of friendship — well, until she pushed it a bit last year.

Okay, maybe it was better to just delete her number.

Despite this reasoning, Allura sits back on the sofa, crafting an apology back to Nyma.

_Hey, Nyma. I’m sorry I drunk texted you last night. Hope you’re doing alright._

She would write more, but she leaves it that because she knows if she let it go any longer, she would most definitely be composing an apologetic essay that ended with some kind of nostalgia and probably an open invitation for dinner that night.

Not good.

She closes herself out of her phone, chewing her lip and thinking a bit. But she’s unable to resist the urge and opens her phone to check Swiftgram — more specifically, Nyma’s page, scrolling down to posts from last year.

Nyma never posted her face — or anyone’s face for that matter — on her social media, but she always took pictures of scenery or of meals with a subtle romantic caption. Up until about three months ago, all these photos were referring to Allura.

Now there is some other woman between the lines.

Allura mindlessly scrolls over the newer posts. Clearly, Allura needed to still get around to doing a social media cleansing and making sure she blocked Nyma in all forms. But more importantly, it’s entirely clear that Nyma moved on much quicker —

Her phone vibrated, and Allura’s heart skipped, thinking it might be Nyma.

_Your Emergency Relationship ad? From last night?_

Last night?

Like just a few hours ago when she was definitely drunk?

“Fuck,” Allura mutters to herself. What more fuck nonsense did Drunk Allura do?

She stares at the foreign set of numbers — completely strange and foreign and she has no idea what to do with this person on the other end of the text thread. She frowns to herself and decides to take a few steps backwards to check her email for any receipts of whatever the hell she was doing last night.

Just as she sees the subject line: _Your LionsList ad for “Emergency Relationship”_ posted! On the email, Allura suddenly feels all the memories rushing back into her brain, her hangover as if suddenly lifted. She opens the email, and at the same rate as she re-reads what she wrote last night, the memories and the regrets pour into her brain.

_Seeking someone to pose in a relationship for 6-8 hours on Thanksgiving night. Only requirements: sustain good appetite enough to finish two plates of dinner prepared by opposing in-laws, maintain cheery attitude through awkward conversations sometimes salted with politics and sports teams, and astutely corroborate whatever untrue stories I might improvise on spot about our supposed two-and-a-half year relationship. Food and bed provided._

Honestly, she’s impressed her syntax was that intact for something she barely remembered composing.

She closes her eyes and sighs with exasperation, letting her phone slap face-down on her chest. After a moment, her eyes flicker back open and she picks her phone up again to face her consequences.

_Ah, right,_ she texts, and then chews on her bottom lip and immediately deletes the words. She doesn’t know where to go from there.

Shiro...

She hates to admit she can’t parse the gender of the name. It sounds like a guy name — and Shiro probably is a guy solely based on probability. Her profile info clearly marked she was a girl, but she didn’t want to assume either.

Still. Probably a guy.

Wait. More importantly, is she actually going to go through with this “brilliant” idea that she had while way too late and way too drunk? She runs it through her head.

Her whole plan this Thanksgiving was to finally bring Nyma home so she could meet her family for the first time. (This had been one of the grievances that Nyma had had in the relationship after all... at least one of the formal ones.) And it was then that Allura had been planning to tell her family she was planning to commit to a long-term relationship with a woman — something that they also had no idea about. All of Allura’s previous relationships (one, to be exact) had been with a woman, but Allura had never felt any urgency or need to disclose the information to her family. It had never been that serious.

But now that Nyma said her goodbyes, Allura’s plans were… sort of out of question.

The only problem now is that they were expecting her to bring someone. Theoretically Allura is okay with confessing to her family that things went a little south in her relationship, but she did _not_ want to face Lotor with his hideous I-told-you-so face. Not after he teased her multiple times with the doubt she was even _in_ a relationship at all and with his absolute certainty she did not have the ability to keep a good relationship when she had one.

After weighing the benefits of truth against Lotor’s snootiness, Allura’s eyes flicker back to her phone, her thumbs hovering over her phone screen that had long since blacked out.

_Ah, right,_ she starts to text again. _Thanks so much for your help. Maybe we should meet up in person so I can take you through the details._

She reads her text over again, frowning to herself, before sending it.

The response is near immediate.

_Sounds like a plan. Are you free today? If not, we can shoot for another time. Let me know what works best for you._

Allura reads this and yawns, stretching herself out on the couch before swinging her feet down to the floor. _Is_ she free today?

Her head hurts too much to really know. She doesn’t have anything in her agenda — at least nothing she remembers — but at the same time she would much rather lie on this couch for the rest of the day. Sitting up already seemed to take the energy out of her.

She rubs her temples, pursing her lips.

It’s already the Sunday before Thanksgiving. If she’s actually going to follow through on this, she needs to set everything up within the next two or three days.

It had to be today.

She sighs, picking up her phone again. _Yeah, I’m free today,_ she texts. _Do you want to meet at 12 at some cafe? Where are you located?_

She looks back up at the clock on her wall. 10:45 now. She’d be able to get ready and meet by noon. Her phone blips again.

_Works for me. I live off Oriande and 3rd. You?_

_Balmera and 17th. We’re not too far. Have you heard of a cafe called Hunks?_

_Yeah, I know exactly where that is. See you there at 12?_

_Yes. See you._

Well, that settles things. Now she has no choice but to get going.

After a few extra stretches and a rinse in the shower, she pulls on her trench coat and walks down to Hunks, all the meantime questioning her sanity. There was bound to be awkwardness or a slip-up if she didn’t play her cards right. Even worse than simply not having anyone to bring to the table would be bringing an actor to the table to fake it out.

Lotor would never let her down on that one.

Nor would her family, probably.

On approaching Hunks, she takes a deep breath and opens the door to the cafe, scanning the room for an empty table. She’s early — it’s 11:50, and it’s more than likely she probably got here first before this Shiro person. Finding a small two-person spot, she pulls off her coat and makes herself comfortable, checking her phone for notifications.

Seeing none, she takes another deep breath in and out, suddenly feeling nervous. But why wouldn’t she be nervous? She had requested probably one of the most strange requests online, and now she has to show face for it.

She feels herself playing around with her hair, and frustrated she’s doing that, she gathers it up in one hand, but then realizes she doesn’t have a hair tie around her wrist.

“Damn,” she mutters to herself, keeping her hair up in her left hand and rummaging through her pockets for the chance that maybe she had something.

“Are you Allura?”

“Hm?” She looks up, caught off guard. She drops her hair.

An Asian man with a white stripe of hair down his bangs, holding an earbud, looks down at her with a curious smile.

She blinks, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Uh, yes. I’m Allura,” she replies, racking her brain for the name. “And you are Shiro?”

“Yes,” he affirms, glancing down at the chair across from her and motioning to it. “You mind if I join you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she says, kicking the legs of the chair opposite her to help him. She watches him pull off his black parka, revealing a gray sweater and black jeans. “How’d you know it was me?” she asks, looking around and seeing plenty of other people sitting alone.

He shrugs. “Just a guess,” he says, folding his hands together over the table. “You just seemed like an Allura.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And what does an Allura look like?”

“Alluring,” he replies with a twinkle in his eyes, without missing a beat.

She gives him a dead laugh. “Ha. Right.”

“You must get that a lot,” he says.

“I don’t think I’ve been on any first date without it.”

“Well, theoretically, this isn’t our first date,” he replies, with a cheeky smile.

She gives him that one, rolling her eyes and nodding. “Right,” she says. “Thanks for being willing to do this, honestly.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’m not doing anything for the holidays and everyone I know is somewhere else. I figure I may as well get a meal out of it.”

“It’s such a strange request, I know.”

He smiles. “Looked like one of the more fun ones to do. The others were asking for someone to make a turkey or to stand in line early for Black Friday.”

“You’re spending your holidays doing other people favors?”

“People need help and I can use some cash,” he says.

“I see.” Allura nods, thinking to herself. “Well then, I guess I should give you a better idea of what’s going to happen on Thanksgiving dinner.” She gives him a pitiful smile, thinking of her chaotic family “Actually, I don’t really know where to begin.”

He smiles forgivingly. “How about I get us a drink first?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she agrees.

He lifts himself up from his chair, gathering his headphone wires and tucking them into his pocket. “I’m going to get myself a coffee. What drink do you have in mind?”

“Coffee sounds marvelous,” she replies, with no hesitation. She doesn’t mention the headache pounding through her head post-many-drinks-too-many from last night. “I can get myself cream and sugar — don’t worry about it.”

“Sounds good,” he affirms. She nods, and then watches him get into line, slipping behind an elderly couple.

He looks like someone her family would highly approve of — with his medium build and broad shoulders, more rectangle than square. She can’t help but notice his high cheekbones and his flawless skin, well-structured face carrying a calm and collected expression. He would absolutely be a catch at this year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

This could work, she assures herself. Yes, this would absolutely work. And the guy seemed reasonable from the start. He offered absolutely no red flags, and he was polite, and he was very well put-together.

Perfect to take home.

Her phone buzzes, and frustrated, she flips it over to the screen.

Nyma.

Allura can’t help it when her heart skips. She immediately swipes to read the message:

_I am. Hope you’re doing alright._

Her thumbs hover over the screen, as if searching for something — _anything_ to say, just to be able to say something. She tastes bitter spit in her mouth. She really shouldn’t text back. This is just a courtesy text, and honestly not a very nice one at that. What would she write anyway? That she was doing alright? That she’s sorry about the drunk text? That she’s sorry about everything and would really _really_ like to see her again so that they could just start over?

“Here you go.”

She looks up, snapping back into the present, slapping a smile back on her face. “Thanks,” she tells him, taking the cup he extends towards her.

“I got you some cream and sugar, too, just in case,” he adds, placing the packets down on the table.

“Oh, thank you.” Wow. Allura puts down her phone, deciding to keep Nyma on hold. It’s better that way. She really shouldn’t be thinking about Nyma every opportunity she got anyway.

Shiro nods towards her phone. “Someone trying to reach you?” he asks.

“Oh, _no_ ,” Allura laughs without humor, tearing apart a few sugar packets. She flits her eyes up at him briefly but realizes he’s looking at her with genuine concern. “My… my ex,” she admits under her breath.

He nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that a good or bad thing?” he asks.

She gives him a face. “I don’t know.”

“Fair,” he says, in the most non-judgmental manner.

Honestly together with all the go-with-the-flow vibes he’s been giving her since his first text, she feels like he’d roll with anything she threw at him.

Waiting out the pause in the conversation, she peels open a few packets of creamer, dumping the liquid into her cup. “What about you? You have exes?”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, as if surprised she turned a question back on him. “Yeah. Just one.”

She nods slowly, thinking to herself and suddenly very uncertain. “I mean...” she asks, giving him a sour face. “Do you talk to yours at all?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head and taking another sip of his coffee before adding, “He passed a few years ago.”

_Fuck._ “Sorry,” she immediately replies. “I didn’t mean to ask.”

Also... did he say _he_?

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t okay mentioning it in the first place.”

_Gay! Gay! He’s also gay!_ her mind keeps screaming. _Solidarity! Gay! You can be real with him!_ But also: _Fuck, his boyfriend died. Why’d you even ask?_

“It’s good you’re on talking terms with your ex though,” he says, interrupting her thoughts. “Probably better than holding a grudge.”

She sighs. “We’re not,” she admits. “I was drunk last night. I sent a text I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugs. “Happens.”

“Actually this is all related. I also wrote that LionsList ad while I was drunk.”

To this, he gives her a wry smile. “And so here we are,” he says, lifting his coffee towards her in a cheer.

She laughs quietly. “Yeah, and so here we are,” she agrees, returning the favor. She watches him take a sip, so she does the same, letting a few seconds pass while letting the aftertaste of cofee sit in her mouth. She opens her mouth, pauses, but eventually asks him, “You’ve probably already figured it out, but do you want me to tell you the whole context of everything?”

He considers, but then frowns. “Only if you want to,” he replies. “I know things might be more personal than you’re willing to share. I’m just here to help with Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I may as well,” she says, sitting back in her chair. “I think context always helps.” She takes a deep breath and then starts, “Long story short, earlier this year, my family was bothering me about wanting to get to know whoever I had been dating for the past few years. I mistakenly had slipped about being in a relationship and they were excited to see who it was, especially since it was pretty serious at the time. Of course, fortune has it that we break up before Thanksgiving.”

Allura looks up at Shiro. “I mean, I could easily just tell them that we broke up but I... I guess I’ve been avoiding telling them for so long that now it’s gotten to the point that they still expect me to bring someone home.” She frowns. “I know that’s on me. Maybe I’m denying the whole fact that it happened I guess.”

“It’s hard,” he acknowledges. “I’m glad I can help out in the meantime.”

“Yeah...” she hesitates, giving him a face. “I’m sorry. This is ridiculous and childish.”

“No, no, I get it. I’m here for you,” he assures her with a smile.

She returns a shaky smile. “Thanks.”

Shiro watches her for a moment before leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table between them. “So,” he says. “What do I need to know about our relationship?”

Allura’s breath freezes in her chest. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and a sunrise of a smirk on his lips, and the intensity of both catches her off guard. She looks down at the lid of her drink and forces a few laughs.

“Well...” she starts. “Technically I haven’t told them anything about the relationship...”

“Ah, so you didn’t tell them about our spontaneous trip to Vegas? Or when we rented a Cessna and I let you co-pilot?” His voice softens. “Or about the time we fell asleep on your roof looking at the stars?”

Allura does something between a cough and a laugh. “You’re very good at this.”

He laughs and leans back into his chair, breaking the facade. “You think so?” he asks. “I’ve always been told I was a bad liar, and even worse at acting.”

Her cheeks feel warm, and she hopes it doesn’t show.

“Oh, I think you’ll be fine,” she says, before recalling his words in her head. “Wait, so are you actually a pilot?”

“It’s a hobby, not my career,” he explains. “I’m actually in finance.”

“Ew,” she blurts, unable to help herself. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I could never imagine myself in that field.”

He laughs. “No, I completely understand. I actually would have never predicted I’d end up working in money either.” He nods to her. “And you? You fly planes? Or do you just happen to know what a Cessna is?”

“Oh, no,” she says. “My father flew planes.”

“Seems like a cool guy.”

“Yes, he was.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro apologizes, immediately catching the detail. “He passed?”

“Not recently,” she assures him. “He and my mother died in a major car accident a long time ago. I must have been eight.”

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.”

“So, we both know the awkward feeling when you mention someone died.”

She returns the smile, laughing quietly. “Yeah.” She pauses for a brief moment, thinking back to her childhood. “I actually have co-piloted a Cessna before, but I’m actually an engineer.”

“Very cool.”

A few quiet moments elapse. She leans forward. “So. How exactly do you envision this going?”

He gestures to her. “You’re the one hiring me,” he reminds her. “You just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Yeah, but I’m bad at this,” she says, flustered. “I mean... you seem to know what you’re doing, so maybe you just want to wing it and see what happens? My family is a little inquisitive but it’s not going to be a serious interview or anything.”

He seems to realize that she actually meant what she said about not knowing what to do, and he laughs quietly, catching her hand — she didn’t even realize she was wildly waving it around in gesture — and placing it down gently on the table.

“Okay,” he says, in a calming manner. “Let’s figure a few things out.” He folds his hands together, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward.

“Okay,” she agrees, cupping her hands around her coffee, suddenly very conscious of her hand movements.

“Where and when did we meet?”

“Two and a half years ago,” she says. She searches her memories, half-recalling how she had met Nyma and half-making it up along the way. “Uh... I was getting my master’s degree and looking for another company to work for and we were working with the same recruiter?”

He ponders this for a moment. “Hmm... I can’t fake being an engineer that hard,” he admits. “We’re going to have to meet some other way.” He rubs his chin. “Maybe a company social? I was one of your colleague’s friends or something.”

“Yes. One of the Voltron socials,” she agrees. “I started working for Voltron back then so it totally makes sense.”

He nods. “Okay,” he summarizes. “We met through your friend at a Voltron company social and we basically hit it off as soon as we started talking.”

“Sounds about right.”

“It was getting late and the party was about to finish but I really wanted to see you again, so I asked you out for a coffee. We exchanged numbers and tried to meet up but our schedules didn’t really sync so we ended up just getting dinner together.” He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You suggested a Cuban restaurant and I ended up ordering the ropa vieja because I thought the name of the dish was funny.”

“You still remember what you got that day?” Allura remarks. “Impressive.”

He looks at her with disbelief. “Well of course. It was an important day to me.”

She’s thoroughly impressed by his impromptu storytelling. “You tell it like it was just yesterday.”

“Being with you makes two and a half years feel like mere seconds,” he replies without a missed beat.

She can’t keep up with his smoothness. Unable to come up with something to say, she just smiles harder and nods, blinking. “Well...”

_Thank you_ isn’t the proper response. Neither is _Me too_. _That’s nice_ probably doesn’t work well.

“It feels like that with you too,” she finally spits out.

He smiles satisfactorily, leaning back into his chair.

She coughs, or maybe laughs. “Alright, so that was our first date,” she says. “What else do you think we need to remember?”

“I’m sure any intense questioning will jog our memories,” he replies. “Maybe we need to figure out if we’re on the same page about our future?”

“Yes,” she agrees, but then realizes she doesn’t have a straight answer for him. “Honestly I’m not really sure what I want to do with my life,” she admits. She looks at the lid of her drink wistfully. “We were thinking about moving to the West Coast, advancing our careers over there or something. It’s a bit of a saturated market but there’s always new start-ups and plenty of established firms looking for engineers.”

He considers this, nodding. “Yeah, plenty of opportunities for people in finance there, too.” He pauses for a moment. “My mom lives on the West Coast, too.”

“Okay,” she answers. “Yeah that works.”

He watches her for a few moments.

“I think we’ll be able to figure everything else out on spot,” he finally says.

“Yeah,” she replies. She blinks. “Thanks. I really appreciate your help.”

“Of course. Just let me know when and where to meet you before dinner so that we can arrive together. And just text me if there’s any other information I should know — whether about us or about your family, whatever.”

“Yes, for sure.” She smiles, recapping their conversation in her head. “I’m so glad this worked out for both of us.”

This all seemed to be going in the right direction. This seemed like something she could actually pull off. And all because Shiro is a _great_ actor.

Either that, or —

“Hey...” she starts softly. “All those things we did and places we went to that you were telling me about... were these memories you shared with your… ex?”

He takes a deep breath in, looking out the window wistfully. “Not really,” he replies. “But I guess I derive a lot of creativity from him.”

“I’m sorry if this whole thing is hard for you to do,” she apologizes. After a pause, she adds, “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” She laughs. “At the end of the day, I know I’m going to be fine if I don’t bring anyone home for Thanksgiving dinner. What’s probably most important is that _I’m_ the one present.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he assures her. “I want to help you out. It’ll be great.”

“For sure,” she says. She watches him take his coffee cup and start to rise to a stand. She immediately mirrors him, finishing the last couple sips of her drink.

“It was nice meeting you, Allura,” he says.

“You too,” she replies. “Thank you so much again.”

He smiles and turns to the exit, giving her a small salute to her as he leaves. She returns his smile, then watches him leave the café first, pushing through the glass door of the cafe, flipping over his hoodie, and replacing headphones into his ears.

Even after he’s completely out of sight, she finds her mouth still curved up in a smile.

...

She doesn’t hear from him for the next two days.

Sitting back into her couch, a place she doesn’t seem to ever be able to leave, she sighs and flips on her phone again, finding her fingers almost automatically clicking to the unsaved number on her message list — Shiro. It isn’t the first time she found herself doing this this week; her eyes always stopped at the last message.

She feels a small itch in her to text him — whether because of her worry that things wouldn’t work out for some reason, or maybe he doesn’t actually show up and decides he doesn’t want to help her out at all, or maybe because she wanted to actually get to know him.

Whatever it is, she can’t deny he dropped quite an impression on her.

The fact that Thanksgiving dinner is tomorrow also doesn’t help. She sits alone at home, half in the dark, half in the light coming in from her hallway — ready for her vacation but also not ready to get back into family mode again.

It wouldn’t hurt to check in, right? It’s totally appropriate for her to text him. She thinks for a moment too long, before deciding to just go for it.

_Ready for tomorrow?_

She puts down her phone screen side down but doesn’t have to wait more than a minute before it vibrates.

_Absolutely. You ready?_

She smiles. I suppose, she texts him. _But I’m also nervous._

_I’m sure we’ll be fine._

She pauses, habitually putting the crystal hanging off her neck in her mouth. Her thumbs hover over the keyboard. What to say? There always seemed to be so much to say to him or ask him about. Their conversation that last time felt completely natural, and almost uncontrollable once they began. If not for the clock, she could imagine completely killing an entire day simply talking to him.

Another bubble appears right after his last text.

_We have great chemistry._

A smile breaks over her face. She almost loses grip of the crystal between her lips.

She thinks a moment before replying. _Yeah, I think it’ll work out._ She wonders if she could offer dinner tonight — the night before the ultimate showdown.

She wonders if she _should_.

_Any last minute things you need to tell me?_

Ah. This is her chance. _Not in particular_ , she starts, her thumbs hesitating, _but we could grab dinner tonight if you like._

_Yeah, I’d love to. Where to?_

Ah. She hadn’t thought that far. She looks out the window thoughtfully. Somewhere walkable for both of them, probably.

_There’s a good Altean pizza place down the street called Weblum. I think it’s a few blocks away from you._

_Works. See you there._

Getting up off her couch had never been so easy.

The smell of sauce and spices hits her the moment she steps through the doors of the restaurant. She notices him already seated inside, at one of the smaller two-person tables hugging the wall next to the double swing doors opening to their kitchen. He’s leaned back into his chair, one leg stretched out and his thumb scrolling over his phone.

“Hey,” she greets him, pulling out her chair.

His face brightens when he sees her. “Hey,” he greets her, tucking away his phone and sitting up.

“You take a look at the menu yet?”

Her best guess is no, just by the way he looked at the two menus under his forearm. “Ah, sorry,” he says, taking one of the laminated sheets and handing it to her. “Anything you recommend?”

“We can split a pizza — they’re pretty large. I usually get the _bandrillo_.”

“Oh, are you Altean?”

“Wouldn’t have been able to exist if I didn’t know it,” she replies. “Why?”

“Oh, you just said the word so fluently, I figured maybe you were.”

She nods. “You know any Altean?”

Shiro shrugs with a small frown. “Just a few words here and there. Not much at all.”

She nods, quickly glancing over the menu to see if there is any other thing that she wanted him to try.

“I can say hello and how are you,” he continues. “Thank you... and the numbers, I guess,” he says, counting off his fingers. “Like _one, two, nine, four, five_.”

She smiles. “You said nine instead of three, but you’re absolutely correct.”

“Ah, sorry yeah, three and nine are really close.”

“Three’s a bit more of a rounded vowel,” she explains. “Here, look at my lips.”

He does. She’s not sure how she feels about it.

“ _Three_ ,” she says, emphasizing the shape her mouth made. “Versus _nine_. If you really think about making a circle with your lips for three, you’ll make the right sound.”

“Got it,” he says, blinking. He tries again. “ _Three_ and _nine_.”

“Yeah, exactly. You got it.”

He sighs. “So much for taking Altean in high school.”

Allura files this information away. She’ll have to remember to tell everyone in case they decide they want to gossip in front of him.

She laughs. “Languages are hard and require time and practice. I wouldn’t sweat it.”

Speaking of her family...

“I have a pretty eclectic family, by the way,” she says. “I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, but I thought I’d give you a heads up.”

He shrugs. “I’ve seen all kinds of families. I’m sure yours is just as normally abnormal.”

She laughs. “Yeah, you’re right.” She pauses for a moment, debating whether to start introducing facts about her family. But there is no time better than now, right?

“I can give you a brief background of who is probably going to show up to the Thanksgiving dinner,” she says. “Don’t worry though because for as much of a shitshow my family is, it is also at least relatively small.”

“Ready when you are,” Shiro replies.

“The first person you’ll definitely meet is Coran,” she starts. “He’s my legal guardian and has been with me since before I could even remember. He was close friends with my father and mother, and when they passed, he immediately became more-or-less my father.”

“Got it,” he says. “Anything I should know about Coran in particular?”

She nods her head emphatically. “You should definitely know at least a few things about Coran,” she laughs. “He is a big personality and he was the one that was trying to get me to get you to this dinner in the first place. He’s super curious and nosy, and he definitely would want to know everything about you.” She thinks to herself, figuring out what else to mention. “Um... I mean outside of all of that, he’s an engineer... and he’s really nerdy and basically a big fact bank of fun facts.”

Shiro chuckles. “Sounds like we’d get along.”

“Actually, yeah, you definitely would,” she agrees, suddenly feeling a little light in her chest. Shiro already seems naturally a good listener. She could very easily see him unintentionally caught in a conversation with Coran about something nerdy like thorium or robeasts, only for him to smile and nod along as Coran spews out fact after fact. 

Shiro would fit right in. Thanksgiving dinner would be a breeze for him — as long as the two of them can keep their facts straight.

It suddenly occurs to her that she still hasn’t told him that she had been dating a woman. It would probably be important to let him at least know, even if her family didn’t know at all in the first place. And it would be fine! Shiro was gay himself, which is probably the most ironic set up — true queer solidarity, at best.

Right? But even up until now, she still hasn’t found a good time to just drop the elephant in the room like: “Oh, just by the way, I’m a lesbian.”

“Anyone else I should know about?” he asks, interrupting her thoughts.

“Um...” she answers quickly, shaking her worries out of her head. “I guess I should tell you about Lotor,” she says, with a groan that she doesn’t mean to let out.

He laughs at that. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

She scrunches her nose, a disgruntled frown on her face. “He’s the son of two of my parents’ closest friends. We’ve grown up together unwillingly and fiercely competing against each other all the time. It’s an entire _epic_.”

He sits back into his seat, bringing a glass of water to his lips for a sip. He firmly places it back down onto the table before crossing one leg over the other, dropping his clasped hands in his lap. “My interest is piqued,” he says. “Let me here it. I’m all in.”

Allura hesitates for a moment, biting her lower lip, but she can’t resist his request. “Okay, fine,” she says, giving in. “But,” she adds, with a point of her finger, “you have to promise to stop me if it’s getting too boring or irrelevant, or if it’s getting too late.”

He says nothing, indicating for her to go on with a deferring hand gesture.

She’ll have to find another time to mention her sexuality, she guesses.

After talking about Lotor, she promises herself. But then they quickly change topics, chatting about sibling rivalry and about Altean oddities.

She never does find a good time to mention it that night, not even between all the jokes and laughter.

...

“This is it?” Shiro asks her as they pull into the driveway.

“This is it,” she affirms, braking the car to a stop. She unhooks the seat belt from around her waist, taking a prolonged look at her childhood home. She hasn’t been back to her family home since this time last year, yet the house feels as familiar as if she had never left at all.

“Ready?” Shiro asks.

She breathes in, nodding. “Just give me a minute.”

He gives her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out all out. We’ll be fine.”

She’s nervous but reminds herself to be optimistic. This is a little game, a little inside joke they’re playing. The stakes aren’t even that high — or so she tells herself. What’s the worst that would happen if they were found out? Lotor would tease her for eternities? This story would go down in the lamest of all things Allura has done?

Still, she feels on edge. As the condensation from their breath begins to settle over the inside of the car windows, she decides it’s time and firmly opens the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

As Shiro exits the car and comes towards her, she extends her hand, offering it to him. He takes just a second glance at her hand before taking it, weaving his fingers between hers. He squeezes her hand and smiles.

Wait, what is she doing?

No, wait. This is okay. This makes sense. The roleplay starts now.

She returns a smile back and leads him forward up the couple of stairs onto the porch before leaning forward to press the doorbell.

The door opens almost immediately, hitting Allura with a blast of warm fragrant air from inside. Home, she thinks to herself. For a moment, she completely forgets about all her stresses and sinks into a feeling of nostalgia.

Coran hugs her tight before he even says a single word. “Allura!” Coran exclaims, immediately looking to the left of her. “And I presume this is...”

“Shiro,” Shiro finishes the sentence for him, leading with a handshake, which Coran takes with strong stride.

Coran glances at her through the corner of his eye, and at first Allura freaks out because she thinks maybe Coran’s already caught onto her game, but she just smiles wide and reminds herself to not overcompensate — as long as she acts as though everything is normal and that this all isn’t just a consequence of a drunken LionsList ruse, she will be just fine.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Shiro says.

“Coran,” Coran replies. He looks again at Allura, as if waiting to find out exactly how much (if at all) Allura had told Shiro about him.

“Ah, Coran,” Shiro remarks. “Allura’s mentioned about you. You’re an engineer, right?”

Coran’s eyes brighten immediately. “Why yes! That is correct. Come inside,” Coran says, waving them into the house. “We must chat some more!”

As they walk in, Coran continues to carry the engineering conversation with Shiro, who is either incredibly good at seeming engaged with the conversation topic or actually just a nerd himself. He pulls off his coat, hanging it onto the rack, all without taking his eyes off Coran.

Allura breathes a sigh of relief, turning to face the wall and composing herself as she hangs her own coat on the rack.

When she turns back around, she sees Coran enthusiastically ranting on, Shiro nodding politely and replying when pertinent. A good start.

Good thing the two of them decided to meet up yesterday. Simply the conversation from their first meeting at Hunks would not have been sufficient.

Allura rejoins Coran and Shiro, and Shiro discretely looks back at her with a reassuring smile. Coran seems to notice this exchange anyway and then faces her. Coran looks pleased as punch — things were _definitely_ going well so far.

“Well, Allura, are you going to give this gentleman a tour of the house?” Coran asks her. Before replying, he assumes her agreement. “That’s great — I still have some things to set up before our feast later tonight!” He waggles his eyebrows. “And I suspect that I should give you two some alone time.”

Allura groans inaudibly, but only gives him a smile. “Sure, Coran.”

Allura slowly takes Shiro’s arm in her hers and leads him around. She’s completely forgotten how warm it feels next to another body. Maybe it’s just because he took off his coat and the trapped heat is coming off him, but regardless she’s surprised by how warm he is.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she says, her voice a little squeaky.

Stop being so nervous, she thinks to herself. Just pretend he’s Nyma and this is exactly what she would be doing if Nyma was here. Wait, no. That’s a bad idea, because thinking about Nyma is incredibly distracting.

“I actually haven’t been back home in a while, so I might run into some surprises if anything changed,” she tells him.

“It can be both our first times,” he replies lightheartedly, following her through the entrance hallway to spill into an area with a cozy bunch of couches.

“This is our living room,” she says, gesturing towards the furniture vaguely. “Looks like we’ve upgraded our TV,” she comments, noticing a much larger, much thinner screen now hanging off the wall. “But the couches,” she says, “ _those_ have been there since I was a child actually, I think.”

He laughs. “I’m sure my mom still has my Styrofoam model from second grade when we had to write a report on a planet.” He leans in as if sharing a dark secret. “I chose Neptune.”

“Oh!” Her curiosity peaks. “Why?” she immediately asks.

Shiro looks at her weirdly, as if not expecting her to have actually pick conversation off his second-grade project.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, stepping back and giving him space. “Neptune’s just... well. I...” she starts a couple of times but finds herself unable to finish the sentence. But then she sees him still waiting for an answer and so finally admits in a quieted voice, “Neptune’s my favorite planet. I was just wondering if you chose it because it was your favorite planet... too.”

A smile cracks across his lips. “Nerd,” he accuses her. But then he steps back his criticism. “Well, okay,” he admits. “I just found Neptune interesting.”

For some reason, she still takes the bait, perking up and spilling out another fact. “Because it has a similar gravity and axis tilt as Earth?”

“Nah,” he replies, holding back a laugh. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I was pretty basic back then. Neptune was blue, and blue was — is still my favorite color.”

She rolls her eyes, huffing. “I’ve always been an astronomy nerd. Some things never change.”

“I lied,” he retorts almost immediately after her admission. “Don’t feel bad about being a nerd — I was pretty much one too. I chose Neptune because it was less basic than choosing Saturn, but I still wanted to write about a gas giant and Neptune has that Great Dark Spot — and a _retrograde_ orbiting moon.”

She purses her lips and turns to him. “You know, usually, this isn’t something you are proud about.”

“ _You_ were the one that turned my Neptune comment into a discussion,” he returns.

They’re interrupted by another voice. “Well, well, if it isn’t the prodigious daughter returning home for an annual holiday visit,” someone claims loudly behind them, the sound of a door slamming after.

Allura turns in the direction of the voice. “It’s good to see you again as well, Lotor,” she greets in return.

Lotor appears around the corner just then, looking to attack Allura with another snide comment. But he lifts an eyebrow upon seeing Shiro, and he straightens out the collar of his shirt instead. “So, Allura,” he starts, focusing back on her. “Are you going to tell us all the tales of how many company projects you’ve successfully set up? Or maybe whatever other awards you might have picked up along the way?”

“If I have any, I’m sure you’ll hear about it over dinner,” she hastily replies, choosing to ignore Lotor’s passive-aggression. She reaches her arm around Shiro’s waist and brings him toward her. “Have I introduced you to Shiro, yet?”

Lotor smiles politely. “This is the boyfriend we’ve all been dying to meet?” He sticks out a hand for Shiro to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Shiro quickly follows suit.

“Shiro,” Allura says, before Lotor can lead the conversation any further. “This is my cousin Lotor. He’s the one I was telling you was the consultant.”

“Ah, yes,” Shiro replied. “Then it’s very good to meet you.”

Lotor gives Shiro a quick once-over. “I was beginning to think that you were just making a big ruse about the fact that you had a boyfriend given what a bore you are.” He meets Shiro’s eyes straight on. “But it seems like you got yourself a good catch.”

“Yeah,” she says, self-congratulating herself. “I did.”

Even if she knows it was really just luck of the internet draw on LionsList.

Lotor doesn’t miss a beat, turning his eyes back to her. “I’m sure Allura has told you all the horrid things that I’ve done and all the trauma I have caused her throughout our unfortunate upbringing together,” he says, with a poised smile.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just exaggerating all because you weren’t invited to my three-year-old birthday party.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You haven’t told him the entire saga of our relationship yet?” he asks her, looking up at Shiro.

Shiro looks at her briefly — she doesn’t give him a response — before shaking his head. “Only the bits and pieces.”

Lotor raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I’m surprised she has kept those dark feelings in her heart without at least giving you a hint of them.” Here, Lotor gives her a look that makes Allura worried that maybe Lotor is suspicious about Shiro, but she quiets her heart when he turns his attention back to Shiro, giving him a nonchalant smirk. “If you’d oblige me, I’d be very happy to recount our tales with you. An invitation to story time and some tea with me?”

Allura interrupts before Lotor suggests anything else. “Don’t get caught up in his nonsense,” she warns Shiro, pulling his arm and bringing him back toward her.

Shiro only chuckles, covering her hand on his arm with his.

Lotor sighs, turning back to her. “Well, the invitation is always there. For now, I’ll leave you two lovers to it. My mother and father will be here any time soon, I expect, and I need as much peace and quiet as I can get before then. I shall be in the kitchen, diligently watching the _blom_ pie for Coran.”

As Lotor leaves, Allura quietly drags Shiro away from the spot they were standing at, retreating further into the living room. Shiro leans in toward her ear.

“You know, he’s not as bad as you made him out to be last night,” Shiro tells her.

“He only seems that way at start,” she defends.

“Pompous, though, you’re right,” he agrees.

She laughs. Kinda _flirty_ actually, Allura realizes, thinking back to Lotor’s smirk and his willingness to actually make conversation.

She doesn’t blame Lotor — Shiro is admittedly a good-looking person. But flirting in her face despite her apparent relationship with Shiro? — even if it was a ruse of a relationship?

Allura pulls Shiro in closer.

“Upstairs?” she suggests.

After he gives her a why-not shrug, they ascend. When they reach the top level, she hesitates on opening the first door to the left of her.

“Uh... this is my room,” she says, slowly pushing the door open. She looks around, relieved that nothing has changed. “Here, come in,” she invites him, stepping to the side so he could step in.

Suddenly, he steps forward, reaching behind him and quietly shutting her door.

Her heart beats fast and confused, she steps toward him, but maybe that was not the right direction to take because the next thing she knows, he leans forward, looking at her with intense eyes.

“Hey, you doing okay?” he asks her.

She blinks a few times, catching her breath. “Yeah,” she says, as if reassuring herself. “Yeah,” she says again.

“Okay,” he says. “Just checking. You looked blank. I wasn’t sure if I did something off.”

She glances behind him before backing up. Too close.

“No, you’re doing fine,” she assures him. “In fact, you’re doing perfect.” She looks down. “I’m just... feeling a little weird, is all.” She frowns. “Nothing to do with you.”

The situation is emotionally confusing. She’s only known Shiro for a few meals yet he’s here in her room, in her home, and they’re holding hands and doing incredibly intimate things for just being acquaintances. Yet this feels natural and almost fun, which it really shouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” he says, looking down to the floor before meeting her eyes again. “I totally get it. It’s like acting and lying right to your family’s faces.”

Her eyebrows raise, and she thinks that maybe this is the time she should mention that her ex is a girl and that she had originally been planning to come out to her family this Thanksgiving dinner — rather than bringing in a perfect boyfriend home.

Maybe that’s part of why everything feels out of place. Her expectations for how this Thanksgiving dinner were much lower. She was fully prepared for her family to not be completely pleased with Nyma, but so far with just a switch in partners, Shiro is hitting all the check marks.

And maybe that’s a good thing? Allura isn’t sure. It’s not like Shiro is sticking around after this. She’s sure her family would ask her about what happened to him, maybe make some comments about how he was “a good one.”

Just thinking about it makes her head hurt more.

Instead, she turns to her room again. “I’m surprised they haven’t changed a thing.” She spots a picture frame on her bed stand, gravitating toward it. She picks it up.

It’s a picture of her mother, father, and her from when she was three.

She looks over her father’s and mother’s eyes. This picture is the only reference she has of their eyes. She remembers so clearly their voices and their smiles — but for some reason her memory always serves a blank where their eyes are.

She looks at the three of them — her young self hanging around her father’s neck, completely uncooperative. Her hand is on her father’s face and while still looking at the camera, one of his eyes is shut in a half-grimace so she doesn’t inadvertently stick her finger in his eyes. Her mother is laughing, arms reaching up to try to position her better for the photo. It’s subtle, but Coran’s finger blurs a shadow on the edge of the picture. This must have been the best picture out of the many taken that day.

“They look happy, don’t they?” she muses.

Shiro takes this question as permission to look over her shoulder at the photo. “Yes,” he agrees.

She looks up at him, giving him a tight smile. “Hm,” she says, looking at the picture once more before hugging the frame to her chest. “I think I’ll take this home with me.”

Another loud slam of the door downstairs, and Coran’s booming voice. “Ah, dear Zarkon and Honerva, hello again — it has been far too long since I’ve seen the two of you!”

Allura looks up at Shiro, raising her eyebrows. “That’s everyone, so that’s the cue for us starting dinner soon,” she tells him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Better get ready then, huh?”

“Mutual friend at a company mixer, right?” she asks.

“Mutual friend at a company mixer,” he affirms.

...

As fully expected, the question comes up right away — in fact, within the first five minutes of sitting down for the meal.

“You _must_ tell us how you met?” Honerva says, sitting forward and propping her face on her palms, as if ready to sink into the story.

Shiro reacts much quicker and much more smoothly. “A mutual friend,” he answers.

“Yes, this mutual friend...” Allura doesn’t remember if there was a gender attached to the friend so she keeps it as ambiguous as possible. “This mutual friend was my coworker when I was working with Voltron, and we met through one of the company mixers when Shiro came along.”

Shiro looks at her with affirming eyes. “Right,” he agrees. “And we hit it off pretty well after that.”

Coran looks pleased as punch. “Well, I’m glad that it’s worked out since then. Seems like things are working out well.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replies, with a soft smile. “They really are.”

“Then why is this only the first time we’ve met him?” Coran demands. “If I knew your boyfriend was this charming, I would have already been pushing you two to get married!” He looks over at Allura. “You know you’re not getting any younger.”

Allura practically groans. “Coran...” she moans, resisting the urge to just up-and-go from the table and hide in her room. She stuffs a forkful of food into her mouth instead. This probably wasn’t even half as embarrassing as it would be if Shiro was actually her boyfriend but this was already getting there.

If only Coran knew actually how desperate of a measure she had actually gone through to get someone like Shiro to help her pretend she was in a relationship...

“Oh, Coran, don’t embarrass Allura like that,” Honerva quickly defends. “Relationships work in their own timelines.”

Zarkon grunts, seemingly in agreement — ever taciturn in large group settings.

“We’ll see how long this lasts,” Lotor says dryly, taking another sip of wine.

Coran is much more offended by this statement than Allura is. “Lotor!” he snaps. “That was incredibly rude.”

Lotor only shrugs in response, putting down his glass and continuing to eat through his plate. Allura doesn’t give Lotor the satisfaction of a reaction.

Shiro laughs. “I’m just happy to have met Allura — the stars just aligned, you know?”

“Oh, please, you don’t need to tell it _that_ romantically,” Lotor huffs.

Shiro looks over at her, and she gives him a smile.

Lotor’s right, but Allura doesn’t mind.

“ _He’s very handsome_ ,” Honerva comments in Altean, giving her a brilliant smile before immediately checking Shiro’s face for any sign of understanding.

Allura can’t help but glance to check Shiro as well, but Shiro seems only occupied with the _pilaf_ and _fluuto_ beans. Either he’s doing a great job of faking it, which she imagines he’s had to do in other circumstances, or she was giving him more credit for his high school Altean.

Or he just really likes the food.

Honerva seems to read the processing going on in Allura’s mind very accurately, as she leans in curiously and asks, “Shiro, do you know any Altean?”

To this, Shiro shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says, glancing at Allura. Honerva gives her a puzzled expression at the same time, as if not understanding her concern.

“But Shiro, you took Altean in high school, didn’t you?” she interjects. “I know he can do the numbers one through ten.”

“Let’s hear it then!” Coran declares.

Put on spot, Shiro swallows his last bite and looks towards Allura for assurance. She gives him an affirming nod. “Allura actually just refreshed my memory yesterday night at dinner, so hopefully I remembered at least something,” he says, then reciting the numbers one through ten in Altean — not even mixing up the three and the nine.

“Brilliant!” Honerva exclaims, looking over at her son. “That’s even better pronunciation than you, Lotor,” she jokes.

Lotor mumbles something in Galran, to which Zarkon suddenly booms in plain English, very intentionally, “You don’t talk like that to your mother!”

And so goes the rest of dinner, as it always does — except for many more direct inquiries to Shiro, which Shiro answers without fail. Allura ends up listening intently to his story as well, learning more about him at the same time her family is. Shiro grew up in a single-parent home with just his mom. His first part-time job was at an automobile repair shop, and from the money he earned working there, he started taking flying lessons. He took an extra year between semesters in college to take care of family in Japan.

And yes, that white lock of hair has always been white since he was a child.

Regardless, even with an additional person at the table, dinner ensues as always. Before dessert is even brought out, Zarkon imbibes more than enough alcohol to make him nod off to sleep every other minute, full glass of wine in hand; Honerva desperately attempts to keep the alcohol from spilling all over Zarkon and to stop him from drinking more every time he jolts awake; Coran is on his sixth, maybe seventh, story about one of his adventures from his youth; and Lotor passes time by eating the _pilaf_ one grain at a time. At this point, Shiro leans back into his chair, sipping the rest of his drink, and quietly observing the table. Telieved that dinner is going well, Allura finishes the rest of her plate.

Eventually, Honerva excuses Zarkon and herself from the table, transferring her husband’s body to the couch. Coran takes the opportunity to announce the _blom_ pie has probably already set and steps back to the kitchen.

Once alone from parental figures, Lotor seems to take opportunity in the quiet of the room, suddenly shooting her a look. “Allura,” he says.

She blinks dramatically as she turns her head toward him. “Yes?”

He gives her a brief professional smile — the same one he always gives her before making a request. “It turns out that my friends, Ezor and Zethrid, can no longer make this Black Friday fundraiser formal that we planned to attend in the evening. So while I have a couple extra tickets and while you two were here, I thought you could enjoy the event with me,” Lotor says. His eyes shift to Shiro. “What do you think?”

Shiro exchanges glances with her, but she hasn’t made up her mind yet. He answers for her, with a nod. “I don’t think we have plans tomorrow,” he replies, looking again at her. “Right?”

“Well, um,” Allura replies, without giving an answer.

Technically Allura has only hired Shiro for the day. She definitely has to talk to him later to figure out the payment plan.

Lotor rolls his eyes, looking back at Shiro. “Well, it doesn’t matter if Allura can’t go, you should come anyway. I’m a much better dancer than Allura anyway.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure you are.”

Lotor gives him a daring look. “The only way you’ll know is if you come see.”

Allura blinks. Is there a strange tension occurring between the two of them or is it just her imagination?

And why does she feel a certain way about it?

Irritated, she declares, “I’ll go, Lotor.” She reaches out for Shiro’s hand under the table. “ _We’ll_ go.”

Lotor looks from Shiro to her, giving her a coy smile. “Then I’ll see you two there.”

Shiro tilts his head toward her, checking her face. She doesn’t give him any expression to read. They absolutely have to talk about this in person later. She doesn’t know if Shiro is just being polite or if he actually doesn’t mind going, but if there’s one thing for certain, this is another one of Lotor’s ploys.

...

Eventually, everyone else joins Zarkon and Honerva on the couches, making idle conversation while holiday programming plays on the television.

Allura positions herself close to Shiro, sitting right up against him. There probably is no need for her to do this, but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind when she leans a little more into him to make herself comfortable. After a moment, he casually puts his arm around her shoulder, holding her closer to him.

She doesn’t mind this at all. He’s so warm and nice to cuddle next to. That’s undeniable.

It makes Allura miss being with someone, and she thinks that for as long as she can pretend to be in a relationship with a legitimate reason, she’ll take it.

The alcohol slowly fades from her system and it’s about now, she feels weird about taking advantage of him. She only hired him to replace Nyma for her family, not for her own emotional needs.

She turns her head to Shiro, for a moment observing the pink flush over his cheeks.

“You want to go home?” she asks before correcting herself. “I mean... go?”

He turns to her — his face is incredibly close to her. He looks at her eyes — and is it just her imagination but _does he look at her lips for a brief second?_ — before nodding.

“Sure,” he says, the scent of sweet alcohol off his breath. “Do you have that picture of your mom and dad?”

Surprised he remembered, she nods. “Yeah… thanks for reminding me.”

On seeing her answer, he nods satisfactorily and rises.

He gets up heavily, and for the first time, she notices he might be a little more than drunk. Quickly, she stands up in case he needs support to stand straight, but Shiro manages to walk around the coffee table without problem, Allura following right after.

“Going home?” Coran asks, standing up from the couch as well. “Let me send you off.”

“Yeah,” Allura says, waving a quick goodbye to Honerva and Zarkon. Shiro follows with a handshake, which Honerva turns into an embrace. Allura looks over at Lotor, who raises a hand at her in acknowledgement of her leave.

“I’ll see you and Shiro tomorrow then?” he asks.

Shiro reaches forward to shake Lotor’s hand. “We’ll see you,” he affirms.

After a final extra wave goodbye, Allura heads on her way to the door where she meets Coran, giving him a hug and accepting his help with her coat. “Thank you so much again for cooking such a wonderful meal.”

“Of course, love,” Coran says, bringing her into another warm hug. “I will cook a grand feast every day if that means having you over.”

“Oh, Coran, I don’t deserve you,” she replies.

“Allura, you deserve the universe,” he assures her, seeing Shiro putting on his coat from the corner of his eye. “It gives me great joy to see you happy,” he adds. Coran then steps towards Shiro, extending a hand. “It was great finally meeting you.”

“Yes, you too,” Shiro replies, completing the handshake.

Coran subsequently brings Shiro into a tight squeeze. Shiro audibly grunts, the breath taken out of him. “Will we see you again next year?” Coran asks. “We definitely will, right?”

“Uh, yeah!” she stutters.

Coran smiles brilliantly. “Perfect.”

Ready to leave the situation, Allura quickly steps back out into the cold and unlocks her car, waiting for Shiro to climb in. She turns on the car engine, reverses out of the driveway, and waves to Coran as she drives off.

She doesn’t say a word to Shiro until they turn the corner.

“So that went well, huh?” she remarks.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think it did.” He pauses for a moment and then asks her. “Were you okay with how everything went?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” she affirms. “Honestly that was perfect performance. I don’t think anyone had a hint that something weird was going on.”

“And I didn’t cross any boundaries?” he asks. “Like... anything I said or did? Like when I put my arm on your shoulder when we were sitting on the couch?”

The moment briefly enters Allura’s memory. “Oh, no. No,” she denies. “That was all fine. I mean that was all for the act, and I mean, we didn’t even kiss or anything.” She looks at him. “I didn’t cross any boundaries for you either, right?”

He shakes his head, contemplative with a frown on his face. “ _Should_ we have kissed?”

“Oh, no,” she immediately says. “I didn’t mean it like that. I think it was fine! I don’t think we needed to kiss to prove any points.”

But damn, now she is thinking about what would have happened if he _had_.

She decides not to think about it while driving.

“Also... are you sure about attending that formal with Lotor tomorrow?” she asks instead. “I know it wasn’t part of the deal and I would completely understand if you don’t want to do it.”

He looks over at her. “I’m okay with going. Are you?”

She bites her lower lip. “I mean, yes, but I can very easily make up some kind of excuse to not go. What I mean is that we don’t have to do this for Lotor.”

“Well, if you’re down, we can go,” he suggests. “I don’t have anything going on tomorrow anyway. And it sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agrees, deliberately looking at the road and not at him. “It always won’t be in front of Coran and a bunch of family. A little less stressful.”

“Exactly,” he says. “We can be ourselves.”

“Yeah,” she agrees again.

Okay, this can be fun after all. Something she admits she can look forward to. She briefly considers what dress she’d wear — maybe that light coral sheath one she hasn’t worn in a while — and when her heart skips a beat, she wonders what exactly she’s so excited about.

Spending more time with Shiro perhaps?

He interrupts her thoughts. “Send me the details,” he requests. “And this time, I’ll drive, so send me your address too.”

“Yeah,” she says.

They both retreat to silence for a moment.

“This was fun,” he remarks.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely,” he affirms. “And Coran is a great cook. I don’t even usually let myself eat until I’m full but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Honestly a good reason I moved out from home is because I would otherwise gain so much weight under his roof,” she replies.

“I don’t blame you.”

She glances over at him. “I had so much more fun today than I thought I would,” she wanted to say, but seeing the serene way he’s staring out the window, with half-lidded eyes, she decides to let him fall asleep.

She only decides to wake him up when they’re at the door of his apartment building. The car rolls to a stop and she brings it into park mode before checking in on him again. She reaches her hand to tap his shoulder but pauses a moment to watch him sleep, noting the bit of drool forming at the corner of his lip.

Just as she thinks to wake him, his eyelids flutter and he suddenly sits straight, awakening on his own. She immediately withdraws her hand and clutches the steering wheel, plastering an innocuous smile on her face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, recognizing the surroundings and gathering his coat around him.

She laughs. “We just got here. Don’t worry.”

He sees himself out of her car, before leaning down and peering back into the vehicle, giving her a wave. “Thanks so much,” he tells her. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “I’ll send you the details once Lotor sends them to me.” Before he closes the door, she quickly asks, “How much would I owe you for this, by the way? I mean, you already helped me out so much tonight. This has been a huge help so I definitely want to respect the time you’ve put into this already. Not to mention that you’ve met up with me a few times beforehand.”

He shakes his head and waves his hand nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it later,” he replies, shutting the door.

...

Of course, Lotor is the first person they stumble upon at the formal. He’s standing casually near the entrance just behind the vendors, as if waiting for the two of them. Lotor’s dressed in a dark navy suit tonight, hanging just off his shoulders, with a crisp white shirt and matching tie.

Allura gives Lotor a reluctant wave and heads towards him while Shiro shows the vendor the tickets off his phone.

“It’s so good to see you again, Allura,” Lotor greets. He glances at her coral gown with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t seen this dress on you before.”

“I’ve never had to look pretty for you,” she simply replies.

The insult doesn’t seem to hit Lotor as she wants it to. He looks over in Shiro’s direction. “And how’s your arm candy?”

“He’s doing fine,” she replies. She looks behind her to glance at Shiro again, not ignoring how exceptionally sharp he looks in his sleek burgundy suit. Allura turns back to Lotor, flipping the question back to him. “And what about you? What about this _person_ you were texting me about this morning?”

“Oh, the surgeon?” Lotor gives her an exaggerated frown. “He’s working on a case today — an utter emergency that only someone of his skill and experience could handle — so he wasn’t able to join me today after all.”

“Well, I hope to actually meet him someday,” Allura taunts.

And for someone that had quite literally hired someone to be her partner, she says this with a lot of confidence.

Lotor shrugs. “We shall see how long he and I last,” Lotor replies. “I’m not looking for anything serious these days anyway.” His tone changes as he looks past Allura’s shoulder. “Why, hello again, Shiro.”

Shiro steps into Allura’s left, giving her a quick smile. “Good to see you too, Lotor.” He gestures towards Lotor’s emptyhandedness. “You’re not accompanied with someone tonight?”

“We were just talking about how his date couldn’t show up tonight because of work,” Allura explains quickly.

Lotor looks like he’s about to say something, but Allura interrupts before he utters another sound. “Let’s go see what drinks are available, yeah?”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees, extending his hand to her.

Allura delays a moment before taking his hand. Oh yes, she reminds himself, cursing her awkwardness, they can hold hands.

“We’ll see you around, Lotor,” Allura says, giving him a goodbye wave. She waits to walk a few steps away before turning to Shiro. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “Lotor asks a lot of questions. I feel like the longer we are around him, the higher the chances he’ll figure this whole thing out.”

“Totally get it,” Shiro says, approaching the bar table and surveying the selection of the set up. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

He requests two glasses from the bartender, as Allura crosses her arms and thinks to herself. Technically they could probably take leave now. Even if Lotor notices the two of them were gone so early in the evening, she can always just say they decided to leave to…do whatever in their own private time.

Shiro hands her a wine and she thanks him, taking a sip still in contemplation.

“You know… we can probably head out,” she tells him after a moment, turning to him. “We’re only here to follow through with Lotor’s request, and we already saw Lotor.” She looks around her. “And I don’t think anybody else here knows who I am.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, but we just got here — might as well finish our drink and then maybe have a dance?”

It doesn’t take that much convincing for her. “Sure,” she agrees. She raises a glass to him. “Cheers for a successful Thanksgiving?”

He clinks his glass with her and takes a gulp. She does the same, letting the red bittersweet drink warm her throat.

“You have a nice family, you know,” he suddenly remarks.

Surprised by the comment, she smiles. “Yeah. I do.”

“I think it’s really neat that your family isn’t even necessarily related to each other, but that you all are really tight and act a lot like family.”

“They’ve helped me a lot, especially Coran,” she says. She looks up at him, with a sudden realization. “I’m sorry I never asked — how is your family? How is your mother?”

“I called her yesterday and then again today. She’s doing well. She’s glad I’m spending time with friends.” He clarifies, “That’s what I told her instead of saying I was being a pretend boyfriend at someone’s Thanksgiving.”

“Mmm…” she says, forcing down the rest of her drink in two gulps as she sees a waiter come by. She shakes her finger, placing her glass on the passing tray. “This won’t be happening again, I promise.” Then she corrects herself. “If luck has it.”

He laughs, then finishes his drink as well. “Well, you have my number,” he replies, finding a tray to put away his glass.

“That I do,” she agrees.

He extends a hand to her. “Dance?”

She accepts it and as he takes her hand and steps in, she quickly reminds herself she doesn’t know how to dance. Shiro checks her eyes, as if asking for permission, before gently placing his other hand around her waist. Reasoning her hand should go on his shoulder, she rests her hand there as well. Just before they move, she stands her ground and looks up at him.

“I don’t know how to dance,” she admits with a cold sweat.

He only smiles to this. “I don’t know either,” he admits, looking over her shoulder at the other dancers. “I’m just going to walk side to side, and I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

She laughs, following his apparent lead. She sways from right to left as well, in time with the music, letting herself lean in toward his body. She’s so close to him right now. His hand on her waist and his hand around hers is an incredibly unfamiliar feeling, but she welcomes it altogether. She likes how his grip subtlety tightens, guiding her back to center should she step too far to one side. She likes how warm and sturdy his shoulder is, and how comfortably her hand drapes over him. She likes he looks down at their feet to make sure to not step on her toes but immediately looks back at her face to check on her.

She notices his cheeks are turning pink, just like how they were last night after his couple glasses of wine. She wonders exactly how much alcohol causes him to flush and she wonders how long he was still glowing after last night’s dinner.

“You can ask,” he suddenly tells her, interrupting her thoughts.

When she looks back at him, she realizes he’s noticed her staring at his cheeks.

She laughs, tucking her chin in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I just think it’s… cute,” she finally says after spending a couple split-seconds trying to think of a word. “How much alcohol does it take?”

He nods, taking her question very seriously. “I haven’t really figured it out to be honest. Just based on experience, I think it has more to do with the type of alcohol than how much I’m drinking of it. Wine, for example, will get me very flushed even after a half-glass. Other times I don’t even eat anything before a few shots and I barely feel it.”

She nods. “Huh, interesting,” she replies. “Very curious.”

He shrugs. “I’ve stopped trying to figure it out.”

The music changes tempo — even slower than the previous one, and eventually at some point, the rhythm is so slow they stop dancing altogether, just swaying in place.

She thinks to herself that she should probably say her goodbyes to Shiro, and that she really shouldn’t keep him for much longer tonight.

The thought makes her a little sad. She won’t be seeing him again.

Or, maybe they could be friends?

“So... how much do I owe you then?” she asks him.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but—"

“No,” he interrupts her. “Please don’t worry about it. This was barely any effort on my part. No better use of my time. I appreciated your company this Thanksgiving. And I’ve had a lot of fun.” He looks at her. “Have you?”

She inadvertently laughs, agreeing. “Yeah, I guess we have had a lot of fun these past couple of days, haven’t we?”

He nods and looks at her for a long moment, as if contemplating a question.

“Allura. Let me take you out on a date.”

She freezes. Did she not hear that he had a boyfriend? And—

Oh, she thinks as she realizes her mistake.

“I... I thought… I’m sorry... I just assumed you liked men.”

To this, he only smiles. “I like whoever I damn well please.”

“Hm,” she says, thinking out loud. She blinks a couple of times. “Well. I have a confession to make.”

“Okay,” he replies, although she thinks she can hear some caution in his voice.

“I haven’t dated... a guy before,” she says slowly.

She sees a flash in his eyes, and she panics.

“But I’m not saying I don’t like you,” she quickly corrects.

They stop swaying. “I see,” he says. “I’m just... surprised I’m finding this out about you now.” 

“Yeah,” she immediately affirms. “I totally get it. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I... I didn’t find a good time to bring it up. And I didn’t think it was really relevant to us.” She pauses. She’s not sure she wants to mention that she actually _has_ considered what dating him would be like — even before he asked her out today.

“Got it,” he says. His eyes look clouded.

“But I—"

“Wait,” he suddenly blurts.

She presses her lips together, watching him carefully. It looks like many gears in his head are turning. Her heart makes a sad flip in her chest. Did she just completely ruin things with him? Was she too honest about things? Or did she say the wrong thing? Hurt his feelings? Lost his trust?

His eyes lock back on hers. “When we first met,” he starts, completely serious, “you told me that you never mentioned your ex to your family, and that this Thanksgiving was going to be the first time your family was going to meet your ex.”

She can’t figure out where his question is leading. “Yes?”

His eyebrows furrow together slightly. “Are you out to your family?”

Her mouth opens but no words come out. She blinks. “Not yet,” she drawls out. “I mean, that’s sort of what I was intending with Thanksgiving dinner, but you know, we broke up so that didn’t happen.” She blinks again, her brow tightening.

He nods understandably. “Do you... ever plan to come out to them?”

Her lips twist into a half-frown. “I don’t know,” she answers. “I mean... I don’t even know what I am. I’ve only ever known myself with women and... sure, I found guys attractive, but I always thought that was just something society taught me. But I don’t know... I don’t really know what I am now anyway. I thought I did.”

“Human, I hope.”

She laughs, breaking her frown. “Altean, actually,” she can’t help but joke. Alteans are notoriously proud of their culture — there’s a phrase in old Altean history that went something like ‘Altean first, human second.’

But Shiro probably has no context for the joke.

He laughs anyway.

“Sorry, I mean—" she laughs again. “I mean... I thought I was just… lesbian and I never ever saw myself in a relationship with a guy. Ever.” She looks back at him. “But I don’t know. Spending time with you feels nice, and we worked well together at Thanksgiving dinner. And I’ve had a lot of fun.”

His eyes grow too intense for her to keep contact with. She looks away with a smile.

He laughs hesitantly. “So...” he says, drawing out the vowel. “Does this mean I can kiss you or not?”

“I mean...” she nervously smiles. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out. I don’t know. I’ve never been... like close with a guy before so I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

“You don’t have to know how you’re _supposed_ to feel,” he assures her with a soft smile. “How do you actually feel?”

“I...” And her eyes flit back to his lips. “I don’t know.”

He smiles. “That’s also okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, her mouth twisting.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he reminds her softly. He looks at her for a few moments longer, before his eyes shift down. He seems to suddenly remember that he’s holding her, and he pulls back his hands, his fingertips floating over her waist, checking her face again. “We can stop,” he says.

“No, it’s... it’s okay,” she replies. She swallows — the urge to pull him close is almost unbearable. Her hand resting at his shoulder slowly moves toward the base of his neck.

“No, we don’t have to do this,” he counters, shaking his head.

“No, I—"

He steps back — and that’s when she pulls him back in, pressing her lips onto his in a succinct kiss. Almost as soon as she touches his lips, she withdraws, taking a breath, as if surprised by her own actions. She looks up at his eyes, seeing that he’s just as surprised at her, and almost as if to convince herself this is all real, she closes her eyes again and kisses him once more. And then another time, and another until he reaches his hands up to hold her face steady and kiss her long and slow.

His kiss is soft and strong, and the music in the background fades until all she can hear is the beat of her heart flooding her ears.

Her eyes are still closed, long past when their lips part. She opens them, seeing him looking amusedly at her.

“You still haven’t done anything wrong,” he says.

She laughs, a touch embarrassed. “I guess I wanted to kiss you after all.”

He laughs then, too. “I’m glad you did.”

“I guess I like you,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“And I guess I like you, too,” he replies.

She chuckles. “Well after four and a half years, I’m glad we’ve finally figured that out.”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me here:
> 
> twitter @napsbeforesleep  
> tumblr @ahumanintraining  
> discord @ahumanintraining#2153


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